Queen Bee
by the old oak tree
Summary: Set at the beginning of Season Three - Hightower does a favour for an old school friend that almost cost Jane his life.


Okay, I've set this at the beginning of Season Three - if fact that was the season playing when I came up with the idea for this story. I am not the world's fastest writer, that's for sure. I was in two minds about downloading it, after all this time, but decided to anyway as it is finally complete.

Queen Bee

It was THE house, the best house in the street, the house that stood slightly higher than all the others did, aloof and apart. It gazed down the cul-de-sac from its superior position and none of the other houses stood a chance. THE house had been a one-off design by the top architect of the day. It was the biggest, the oldest, and the most envied; a maze of rooms and towers, extended and redesigned. It would have not looked out of place in Hollywood visited, twice daily, by the star spotting tour bus, but it sat in a small town two hours ride from Sacramento and had been owned by the same family since the architect handed over the keys almost a hundred years ago.

Jane did not like it. He felt it was a spooky, brooding, menacing heap of old fashioned rotting wood. It instantly became to him the Adams family house, although nothing about it was the least bit similar to the TV programme, apart from, maybe, the age. To Jane it was the Adams Family's house and he did not want to enter.

Jane's animosity was directed unfairly towards the pale yellow house and he knew this, the person he was truly angry with, he had yet to met. As soon as he was introduced to owner of the Adams Family house, his hatred would switch and the house would once again fall in stature to being just someone's large, ostentatious home.

Lisbon waited for the automatic wrought iron gates to swing open and allow her to take the SUV the final yards and park in front of the home of Mr and Mrs Terrance Bell. Cho was following in the other SUV, which, for some reason known only to themselves, Rigsby and Van Pelt had decided to travel in. Some reason only known to themselves, who was she trying to kid. They had heard the argument, they had seen the set lines in Jane's face as he… stormed, stormed would be the wrong word, stormed was not something Jane did… moved with precise purpose out of Hightower's office. They had seen the thunderclap that was Lisbon's face as she hurried after him, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt had all shrank back into the shadows and turned their hearing up a few notches.

"Jane, it's a favour for Hightower."

"Yes a favour, it's always a favour for someone lately isn't it?"

"We're not exactly busy at the moment."

"You might not be Lisbon, but I am."

"A break will do you some good, give your brain a rest from … she was going to say Red John, thought better … your ongoing investigation." Jane nodded. "Right, so tracking down a lost kid for Hightower's bridesmaid, that's going to boost me up and pow…" he threw his hands up into the air, imitating an exploding firework, "…everything will suddenly fall into place and like sun on a rainy day, I will be hit with the shining beam of knowledge and Red John will be mine." He looked down on her, unsmiling. "…or maybe the kid will be found dressed as a clown in the circus and we would have wasted precious time that could have been put to better use."

"What better use Jane? Pouring over files in a dusty attic, you'll just drive yourself madder…" Lisbon gulped, realising her Freudian slip "… mad," she corrected.

"Lisbon, why hasn't your team set out?" Hightower's voice called down the corridor after the two, saving Lisbon from the embarrassment she was feeling.

"We're just finalising details." Lisbon lied. The clicking of fast heels approaching told Lisbon she had not been believed. Hightower position her body between her top agent and the troublesome, but brilliant, consultant. She glared up at the latter.

"Elizabeth Bell was my best friend at high school, we were each other's bridesmaids, she has had a terrible few years and now her son is missing and she has begged me for my help, begged me and I am not going to let her down and neither are you." And she actually poked Jane in the chest as she finished. "Got it." Jane stared down at the finger that had dared to touch him, Lisbon was ahead of the game, she grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket, shouting "We're on our way boss," as she dragged him down the corridor and towards the lift.

He had not spoken one word on the whole drive. Now passing through the electric gates and heading for the house and an interview with Madeline Hightower's bridesmaid, Lisbon knew she had only a few minutes left to get him back on her side.

"We'll interview Mr and Mrs Bell, you give us your input and if you truly believe there isn't a problem, we'll turn round and drive straight back to headquarters."

"And Hightower?"

"I'll deal with Hightower…as usual."

"Thank you Lisbon."

"So less sulking."

"I wasn't sulking."

"You haven't uttered one word to me since we left the office; you're trying to get me to believe the silent treatment isn't sulking."

Jane sighed, and turned from his intensive studying of the house to stare at his companion, looking directly into her eyes. "Lisbon, please believe me, I don't sulk, sometimes, admittedly I stop speaking but that is because I am thinking, and you should take it as a compliment that I feel comfortable enough in your presence to allow myself to zone out."

"So being ignored for two hours is a compliment, yeah, right."

Lisbon pulled on the handbrake and both alighted from the vehicle.

"You once accused me of having ACD now, when I am quiet, that's wrong, sometimes Lisbon, I just can't win." Lisbon opened her mouth to retaliate but was stopped as the front door was opened and Mrs Elizabeth Bell stood waiting.

The queen of England is called Elizabeth, a royal name. In the tabloid press in that country, she is sometimes referred to as Lizzie. The woman who stood framed in the doorway of the large yellow house would not have been called Lizzie by anyone. She was Elizabeth. Small, slim, perfect blonde hair in a complicated modern hairstyle, Flawless makeup, Jane could see where the plastic surgeons knife had taken off a few years but he doubted if anyone else spotted them. She looked as if she should be standing beside a newly elected president, or at lest a governor. This was not the case. Elizabeth was standing beside her grey haired unassuming, pass-in-the-street-without-a-moments-notice, husband, a man twenty years older than her whose ancestors had started a small grocer shop when they had immigrated to America and it had grown and grown. Bells Stores were common place in this part of California and Terence Bell was the last in a long line of Bell's, and when he died the name would pass onto his stepson, formally adopted by him two years ago when he had married Elizabeth.

"He's been kidnapped." Elizabeth was trying to put on a 'brave face' but she was twisting and twisting a handkerchief of French lace in her perfectly manicured hands, as she sat bolt upright beside her husband on a chintz covered sofa.

"Have there been any ransom demands?" Lisbon asked gently. Elizabeth was holding on, but only just and Lisbon need as much information out of her before she broke completely and had to be sedated.

"No…not yet but there will be, I know it, with an ear or something…" her voice hitched and the handkerchief was twisted tightly around a finger. Lisbon glanced over to where Jane was slowly wandering around the large, sunny room, looking at photos and other family mementos. He caught her look and just raised one eyebrow before turning back to study a framed certificate on the wall. Lisbon heart had started to race slightly, this was beginning to feel like 'something' not a runaway, she suddenly hoped that Jane was right and this case would not end with a shallow grave in deep woodland.

"How old did you say Clarence is?" Jane had walked silently back to stand beside Lisbon, wondering how anyone could saddle a child with such a name.

"Nearly eighteen, he starts college in the fall."

"Clarence, strange name."

"It was my father's name, and his father before that."

"What is he actually called? Clarrie, Larry, Lance maybe." Elizabeth sat up even straighter and looked directly into Jane's eye.

"He is called Clarence of course, what else would he be called, that's his name, Clarence." Jane's mouth made a slight 'O'.

"You didn't mind changing his second name, taking away his birth fathers name?" Lisbon tensed, why was Jane going on about names when the boy could be in real trouble.

"Of course not, Terence needed an heir, needed the name of Bell to continue. Clarence's father wouldn't have minded."

"Wouldn't, dead then." Jane again, his cold voice.

"Yes, it was very sudden, he had a weak heart."

"How is any of this relevant Mr. Jane, Clarence is missing, gone over twenty four hours, I fail to see what name he possesses has any bearing." Terence Bell put his hand across and covered his wife's handkerchief enlaced fingers easily. Jane noted how large his hands were, and how Elizabeth stiffen slightly as the hand enveloped hers, before she realised she was being watched and quickly placed her other hand on the top of her husbands. Jane looked silently from husband to wife. Terence Bell was no taller than he himself, but up against the slight woman that was Elizabeth, he looked massive. There was no excess flesh on his bones and he had the look of a man deep in grief. Jane recognised the harrow expression, seen it enough times in his own shaving mirror.

"Who died?"

"Jane." Lisbon hissed

"You think he's dead, you think he's already dead." Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as she misunderstood Jane's comment.

"No, Mrs Bell, I have no idea about Clarence, your husband countenance is…" Jane circled his own face to emphasises his point "…it shows grief, the lines caused by a permanently down-turned mouth, long term grief."

"Oh." Elizabeth sniffed back the fat tears.

"We have both suffered three terrible years Mr. Jane, Clarence's disappearance, well it's just…" Terence Bell stopped talking as his own emotions began to get the better of him. Jane looked from husband to wife and frowned, they had avoided the question, given him no straight answer but he kept, much to Lisbon's relief, silent.

"Run me through the last time you saw him, anything unusual." She really did have a bad feeling about this case, deep inside she knew it was going to end with a death.

"Can I see his room?" Jane asked, speaking over her.

"Terry could you show the Agent to Clarence's room." She had been introduced to Jane, obviously had not thought him important enough to retain his name.

"Consultant." Jane corrected and followed the hound-dogged faced man out of the sunny living room.

Clarence's room was high in one of the towers. Jane made a b-line to his large window and gazed out at the view. He took in the sight of all the other expensive houses stretching down the cul-de-sac, each, in its own right, extremely impressive, but up against the Bell's house, poor imitations. Every house was well loved, the wood freshly painted, the gardens neatly tended, all except one house; it would have been considered to be the Bell's closes neighbour, but the vast expanse of garden meant even the loudest party would have had trouble reaching the ears of the owner, who unlike the rest of the neighbourhood had not kept the house neat and tidy. Even from this distance, it was easily to see the paint had been allowed to dull and age, the garden grown over. An unkempt house amongst the neighbourhood of well loved, peeked his interest. He would have like to know its story. At this moment in time he had to know Clarence's story, and to do that, he had to read the room.

For a teenage boy the room was extremely tidy. The bed sheets smelt of washing powder, fresh on that day - strange, why change the boy's bedding when he was missing. There were no posters on the wall of anything, no indication of Clarence's interests and hobbies. Jane looked under the bed, under the mattress, bottom drawers under the lining paper, he looked everywhere secretive teenage boys might hid things and found nothing. In the drawers were t-shirts and underwear, under the bed was dust bunnies, in the wardrobe clothes, neatly hung, colour co-ordinated. Clarence seemed to be very slight OCD.

Jane was aware that Terry Bell was leaning against the doorframe, watching.

"Is there anything I can help you with Mr. Jane? Something in particularly you are looking for?"

Jane glanced in the medical cabinet in the on-suite before answering.

"Just trying to get a feel for Clarence, if I know what interests he has I have a better chance of getting inside his head, which might give me an insight into what has happened to him. Is there a laptop anywhere?" Terry moved into the room and over to a desk in one corner.

"Must have it with him, it usually lives on this desk."

"He seems very tidy for his age group."

"Oh Clarence is a fine boy, quiet, studious, I've never even heard him raise his voice. I take great pleasure in introducing him as my son."

"And that's how you think of him."

"Yes, Clarence is my son."

"But he's not your flesh and blood is he." Jane pointed out. Terrance Bell's face fell even further, giving away more information that he realised.

"No, Mr. Jane, as you rightly say, Clarence is not my flesh and blood, but he is all I have now that comes close to being a son."

"What happened to your son Terry?" Jane's voice lowered, he allowed a hint of compassion to tinge it. Terrance Bell's eyes instantly sparkled with tears.

"I never had a son but was blessed with a daughter," His voice became no more than a whisper, "who died thirteen months ago last week."

"I'm sorry for your lost." A tear escaped from Terrance's eye and fell unchecked down his cheek, losing itself in the creases around his mouth.

"Was it an accident?"

"Asthma attack, it happened out of the blue, I had been told JT's asthma was only mild, then…" he had to stop talking to compose himself, Jane waited silently. "Elizabeth found her, seems she had an attack and had misplaced her inhaler."

"I thought asthmatics always had one with them?"

"JT… oh she was named Juliette Thomasin…" Terrance spotted Jane's eyebrow raise at the names…"yes quite a mouthful, family names, every generation had a Juliette Thomasin, we just called her JT…" His voice trailed off as memories of his beloved and lost daughter filled his thoughts. Jane turned casually away to look back out of the window, giving the bereaved father time to wipe fresh tears from his face and compose himself. Jane recognised the actions of a man completely broken by the death of a child. His own heart lurched slightly. Terrance coughed, back in control, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened "…JT's asthma wasn't that bad, she rarely needed her inhaler, always leaving it in a different purse to the one she was using."

"But that day?" Jane prompted.

"She needed it and she didn't have it, her love of purses caused her death."

"I don't understand…." Terrance smile briefly.

"If she had just stuck to the same damn purse everyday, she would have known where her inhaler was, but she kept changing them and things would get left behind in the other purse." Jane could see more tears forming in Terrance's eyes; he needed to change the subject fast.

"So this is Clarence's bedroom, where do you and his mother sleep."

"Oh the master suite is on the floor below; Elizabeth sleeps in the room next door to this one."

"You don't share the same room?"

"No, I snore."

"But you have the master suite and Elizabeth…" Jane moved quickly out of the room and into the extremely small bedroom next door, nothing but bed, cabinet and a frilly, spindly chair that could not take the weight of a fully-grown adult, though Jane expected the slight Elizabeth would have no problems. Terrance had followed him into the room.

"You sleep in the master suite…" Jane repeated, "…and Elizabeth sleeps in this cell." He swept his hand around the room.

"She prefers it." Jane looked again around the sparse room, something wasn't right, he moved closer to Terrance, invading his personal space, put on his best all-men-together smile and dropped the pitch of his voice.

"So…who visits who?"

"Pardon me."

"You know…" Jane raised his eyebrows "…if I was lucky enough to be married to Elizabeth, I would have problems with her sleeping so far away, I mean…" he looked pointedly at the single bed, "…man that bed isn't built for loving."

Terrance actually blushed, a deep red hue.

"Since JT's death, it's been difficult."

"Ah grief affects everyone differently."

"No. Elizabeth has found it extremely difficult; she was very fond of JT and with all the other deaths."

"Other deaths?"

"My wife, JT's mother was killed in a traffic accident a month after Elizabeth's husband died of a heart attack, we met in the cemetery."

"Buried near each other?"

"No, John, Elizabeth's husband was cremated, my wife is buried close to Elizabeth's father, she was very fond of her father, he was her life, her mother had vanished when she was just a baby, so there was only the two of them."

"And he died of?"

"Heart, Elizabeth nursed him for many years but he died not long before she married John and had Clarence, she still visits his grave every week, fresh red roses."

"Red?" Jane queried.

"Nothing but the best for Elizabeth's father."

"Red." Jane commented again, under his breath.

"Is JT with her mother?"

"No, she was cremated."

"Not buried with her mother."

"No, Elizabeth hates the though of bodies rotting in the ground, I was so upset at the time that I allowed her to make all the arrangements, she was my rock."

"But Elizabeth doesn't mind her beloved father rotting beneath the ground."

"I think she regretted after he had been buried." Jane nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"Why are there no pictures?"

"Pardon me?"

"Downstairs, plenty of pictures of Clarence, old chap I take to be Elizabeth's father, but I didn't see any of a girl, not one. Why no pictures of your daughter?"

"After she died Elizabeth said she couldn't face seeing them, the wound was too raw for her, I had to take them down until Elizabeth had healed."

"But she was your daughter, could you cope with seeing her pictures?"

"There in my office, I say good morning to her every day, and kiss her goodnight." Jane could hear the building emotion in the man's voice, he changed tactic.

"You first wife's death. You said a car crash, her fault?"

"I said traffic accident, it was hit and run, my wife was an early morning jogger, she was found in the undergrowth."

"Catch anyone?"

"No, the case is still supposed to be open."

"Lot of deaths."

"Yes the last three years have been terrible, that's why Elizabeth is so worried about Clarence."

"Thank you for being so honest with me Terry."

"Will any of this help you find Clarence?"

"All knowledge is useful, what kind of mother is Elizabeth?"

"Very loving, very…" Terrance's voice trailed off as something crossed his mind. Jane noted the change in the man's expression.

"Very…" he prompted.

"Loving, I said."

"No, you were going to say something else, then thought better."

"No. No you're wrong Mr. Jane."

"Controlling. Is that the word you were going to use?" Jane already knew the answer, Terrance eyes widen slightly as soon as the word came out of Jane's mouth, he had bulls-eyed the first time.

"I think I've answered enough personal questions for one day Mr. Jane, if you have seen everything you need to up here, I would like to check on Elizabeth." Jane nodded and wondered, as the two men made their way downstairs, Terrance Bell had answered easily questions about his first wife, his daughter and even his non-existent sex life, but the shutters snapped down as soon as Elizabeth's relationship with Clarence was mentioned. Why? Something was being hidden and Jane was good at digging up the hidden.

Lisbon was exiting the lounge as Jane and Terrance came down the stairs. She glanced up, trying to read her consultants face, seeing if he had found out anything in the time he had been away from her. As usual, it was like looking at a blank screen, but Terrance Bell's eyes were red and his mouth set in an angry line. Jane had worked his magic again, now she needed to repair the damage.

"Mr. Bell, I think your wife could do with some comforting." Terrance nodded without speaking and disappeared back into the room she had just vacated.

"What did you do to upset him?" Lisbon hissed at Jane. Jane smile, shrugged and looked innocent.

"Just asked questions."

"What type of questions?"

"Oh the usual… what did the bridesmaid have to say for herself?"

"She's convinced Clarence has come to harm."

Jane chuckled to himself. "He's probably run off to change his name."

"So you don't think there's anything for us to investigate here, that we should return to Sacramento and you back in the dusty bowels of your office."

"Bowels are downstairs, basements, cellars that type of thing, I preferred to think of my office as an eyrie, you know an eagles nest on a tall outcrop of rock."

"I do know what an eyrie is… so you don't think there is anything here for us, that Clarence will turn up safe and well …"

"No." Jane interrupted her.

"You don't think Clarence will turn up safe and well?"

"Oh he's fine, I'm sure of it, no there is something going on here, but I can't quite put my finger on it, so if it's alright with you, I would like to ask some more questions."

"You not going to upset Mrs Bell, she's barely holding on."

"No not her, not the drama queen, I was thinking the neighbours, get their take on it all."

"So now you're interested. Now you would like us to stay and investigate."

"If that's alright with you, then yes please." He gave her one of his huge, bright smiles.

Lisbon nodded, "Okay." She hoped she had made it sound as if she was doing him a big favour when in fact, she had a horrible feeling something strange was going on in the Bell house, and it had everything to do with Clarence's disappearance.

Cho had been given the job of baby-sitting Jane; together they trudge down the street, knocking on doors whilst Rigsby and Van Pelt visited the few school friends that Clarence had. After three doors, Cho knew Jane was bored and a bored Jane was a dangerous Jane. "It's like interviewing the Stepford Wives." Jane commented just before the door of house number four was open by a clone of the occupant of house number one to three. The woman who lived in the street where of all ages but they had immaculate makeup, well tended hair, designer clothes and the same comments to make of Elizabeth Bell - wonderfully woman, worked hard for charity, very high standards, loving wife, caring mother, no idea why Clarence would run away, etc. etc. Lots of words, no actually useful information, it was as if each had been brainwashed and re-programmed. Cho thanked her and the two retraced their steps back down the path of a front garden almost identical in appearance to all the others in the street.

"Elizabeth Bell seems too good to be true." Cho commented as he headed to the next house, Jane stood stock still on the pavement looking back towards the Bell house.

"Yeah, a bit too good." Cho turned at Jane's off hand comment. "No ones that perfect Cho." Cho quickly moved back to Jane's side.

"These woman are all lying, is that what you are saying?"

"Not quite, they're telling the truth as they see it, we need to find someone who hasn't be dazzled by Elizabeth Bell, someone who has resisted her charms."

"So we keep knocking on doors until we strike lucky." Cho moved once again towards the next perfectly manicured lawn framed by colourful flowers. Jane turned and walked the other way.

"Jane, where are you going?" Cho shouted after him, Jane nodded towards the unkempt house he had spied earlier. "I'm going to interview the one resident who has not succumbed to Elizabeth's honey."

"There's no-one home, we knocked earlier."

"There's someone home, they just chose not to answer."

"So for you they'll answer."

"Oh Kimball, no one can resist my charms." Cho decided it was easier to let Jane do as he wished, he would continued to knock on the doors of the Stepford Wives even if it was a futile waste of time.

Jane stood looking up at the unkempt house that stood out like a missing tooth in a mouthful of veneers. The wood needed painting but there was no rot, the garden was overgrown but not with weeds, the plants were colourful and allowed to climb where they pleased. The front windows had the drapes pulled tightly shut, Jane wondered if they were always closed, shutting out the neighbourhood. He could hear in the distance the sound of sawing wood. Someone was at home. The side gate was too tall for Jane to see over, even if he jumped, but the lock was easily picked, unfortunately, the hinges creaked loudly as he pushed through and the sawing stopped instantly.

"Hello, anyone at home." Jane called, knowing the game was up and he could not sneak into the back garden. A tall figure blocked the bottom of the path that lead down the side of the house.

"You're trespassing." The voice sounded female, the body hidden by shadow seemed male.

"CBI." Jane held out his pass, deliberately forgetting to mentioned 'consultant'. "Need to ask you a few questions."

"Concerning?" The voice still female, queried, Jane got closer to the unmoving figure he still could not tell the sex of.

"Your neighbour's son Clarence has gone missing, the family's very worried." The figure snorted.

"Better come round the back, there's work to be done and I'm not stopping just because Elizabeth has worked herself into a state." Male or female, Jane knew he had found his source of true information.

She made him saw wood, for female the figure was. A tall, muscular woman who looked as if she was once capable of winning the shot put in the Olympics - once, in her younger days - for in the light of the full sun she looked every day of seventy-five years, even though her body was still upright and strong. A sawhorse sat in the middle of a lawn with a large log resting on it with a two-handled saw discarded on the grass.

"Help me saw this up and I'll answer any questions you have." Jane picked up the handle of his end of the saw, wiped his hand down his trouser leg and positioned himself. It took a few attempts before he got into the rhythm, and then found after only minutes he was getting out of breath. The elderly Amazon was talking and he needed to ask very few questions for she told him everything he needed to know.

Lisbon sat on a wrought iron chair position in front of a matching table, glass of chilled, homemade lemonade cooling her hand as Rigsby and Van Pelt made their report. A report that contained no useful information. Clarence was quiet, nervous, a good student, kept himself to himself. As soon as they finished Cho appeared and sat in one of the spare seats, Elizabeth materialised by his side and handed him a glass of lemonade.

"Any news?" She asked sweetly.

"Nothing new Mrs Bell." Cho replied, taking a gulp of the cold liquid.

"Where's Jane?" Lisbon questioned.

"Last time I saw him he was heading for the old house." Elizabeth made a most unladylike grunt on hearing this piece of news.

"Take no notice of anything Clara Jenkins tells you, she is out-of-her-tree mad."

"She speaks very highly of you as well Elizabeth." Jane plonked himself down in the last spare seat; he was carrying both his jacket and waistcoat and looked decidedly red in the face.

"God Jane what on earth have you been doing?" Lisbon asked.

"Something I haven't done in many years." Rigsby's sniggered as his mind worked overtime. Jane glared in his direction, knowing exactly what the tall agent was thinking. "Physical labour, Miss Clara Jenkins had me sawing wood." Elizabeth snorted again at this news.

"She's old and demented, should be in a home not living all alone in that big house."

"She mentioned you had tried to buy it from her, how nasty you got when you were turn down flat."

"That house is rotting around her, I was trying to do her a favour, it will fall down and kill her one of these days, you saw the state of it, it lets the whole street down, should be condemned. "

"Looks okay to me."

"Well you're no expert are you Mr. Jane."

"And you are?" Elizabeth Bell stood glaring at Jane, her eyes narrowing and her lips a thin line. Suddenly her faced changed, brighten.

"Oh where are my manners Mr. Jane." The tone of her voice completely different, it was light, almost simpering. "You must be so thirst after doing your good deed for dear Clara."

"No I'm fine, she gave me some water."

"Water, where's the hospitality in water, no you must have glass of my grandmothers blue ribbon lemonade, secret family recipe, finest in town. Isn't it Wayne? He's on his second glass." She beamed in the direction of Rigsby who had chosen that moment to put his half-empty glass back down onto the metal of the table, clattering it slightly. "I won't be but a moment."

"I don't…" Jane was not allowed to finish his sentence as Elizabeth disappeared back into the house.

"What did Miss Jenkins tell you?" Lisbon asked, Jane torn his eyes away from the door Elizabeth had disappeared into, his thoughts a million miles away from Miss Jenkins.

"Um…"

"Jane, spill it."

"Walls have ears; I'll tell you later, is there anything else we need to do here or can we get back to the office, I need to do some research."

"You…research." Cho laughed once, before draining his glass of lemonade. The team stood as one, ready to leave just as Elizabeth reappeared, a glass of lemonade on a small silver salver.

"Are you going?"

"Yes, we'll be in touch as soon as we have any news." Lisbon tried to comfort.

"You're going to find Clarence for me?"

"We'll do everything in our power." They moved away from the table.

"Mr. Jane, your lemonade." The silver salver was pushed in front of Jane."

"I don't need a drink, thank you."

"Oh you must try it Mr. Jane, I will think you don't like me if you don't accepted my hospitality."

"Drink the lemonade Jane," Lisbon growled.

"It was very good." Van Pelt confirmed.

Jane took the lemonade and sipped, Lisbon glared at him and he took a larger swig, his face briefly showed surprise.

"Isn't it the best you have ever tasted Mr. Jane?" Jane gulped down before answering.

"I can honestly say I have never tasted anything quite like it."

"Drink up, I can't stand waste." Jane took another swig and satisfied that her prize winning lemonade was not going to be left, Elizabeth Bell, without a word of thanks or goodbye to the CBI team, turn and disappeared back into the house. As soon as she was out of sight Jane turned his head away and spat the lemonade out onto the grass, quickly pouring the rest of the glass after it.

"JANE! That was gross." Van Pelt was disgusted with Jane's childish behaviour.

"If that was prize winning, I wouldn't want to try the losing one, it was almost all sugar."

"I though it was lovely. I could easily have drunk another glass." Rigsby commented.

"Well if your teeth have rotted out by tomorrow, you'll know why."

It was early evening by the time they returned to the CBI offices, Jane hadn't done as promised and told Lisbon what he had learnt from his interview with Clara Jenkins, he had fallen asleep and only woken when the SUV pulled into the parking lot.

Walking through security and towards the lift Lisbon started questioning Jane, who seemed more interested in rubbing the muscles of his arm. Lisbon smiled, enjoying his discomfort.

"Time you started going to the gym."

"Maybe."

"How old was Clara, your sawing partner."

"Seventies."

"Bet her muscles aren't sore."

"Probably not."

"So based on that." Lisbon could not keep the glee out of her voice, "you are so unfit an old lady could out run you." Jane glared, not in the mood for joking.

"She was an extraordinary old lady, not the common or garden variety."

"Still, an old lady."

"Lisbon, Jane, my office." Hightower's voice stopped them both in their tracks.

Hightower sat behind her desk, glaring at both as they entered her office. She did not offer them a seat and based on the anger in every movement of her body, neither asked.

"Did I not tell you what a close friend Elizabeth Bell is?"

"Yes…"Lisbon was going to add more but Hightower put up a hand to stop her.

"So why have I had her on the phone for the last hour telling me, in detail, how useless CBI is and how she is going to hold me personally responsible for any ill that befalls her son."

"She…" Lisbon tried again, Hightower was not finished.

"I've had to promise her I will put someone else onto her case. Pass any information you have over to Martin Ross and his team." Hightower dismissed them both by looking back down at the papers on her desk. Lisbon turned to leave the office, tail between her legs. Jane stayed, rubbing his arm and staring down at Hightower.

"So, you were the quiet bookish nerd and Elizabeth, what was she, head of the cheerleaders? The 'it' girl? Prom Queen? The main bullying bitch?"

"Jane!" Lisbon turned sharply knowing what was coming and hoping to switch him off before something brown hit the fan. It was too late; the 'bitch' comment had Hightower to her feet.

"Elizabeth was a very popular girl."

"People were frightened of her; you either run with the pack or are hunted by it."

"She's my good friend."

"I know, bridesmaids at each others wedding. When did you last speak to her before today? Were you a bridesmaid at her first wedding or the second?" Jane could tell by Hightower's face she had not even been aware her 'close' friend's remarriage.

"Our lives got too busy to keep in touch."

"Before she needed to use you again, when did you last hear from her?" Jane did not require an answer, he never really did. "Your own wedding?"

It was a statement not a question. Hightower was not going to give him the point.

"People drift apart."

"Yes particular when it isn't a true friendship just someone being used. How did you become friends, did she have an important exam she needed to pass, something you were known to be good at?"

"American History." Hightower spoke before she could stop herself. "Her father had just had a heart attack, she was a mess and came to me for help."

"That would be Clarence senior."

"He was her world, and she his. I have never seen a father and daughter so close."

"She was spoilt rotten then."

"They only had each other."

"After that, buddy buddies?" An edge had entered the timber of Jane's voice. Lisbon, silent and watchful of the two in front of her, notice and glance across at him. He was holding his arm as if frighten it would fall off.

"We helped each other." Hightower was determined to win this argument.

"I know, she asked you to do things for her, and you agreed. Happy to just walk in her shadow."

Lisbon could see from Hightower's face how many of Jane's barbs were striking their target.

"The history between Elizabeth Bell and me is not relevant to this case. Her son is missing, probably kidnapped, might even be dead, and all you can do is prove how right you always have to be. Well, if you are so clever where is Clarence Bell?"

"He ran away."

"Why, why would he run away from a loving mother?"

"Because she kept raping him."

The silence that fell was so complete Lisbon could hear the beating of her own heart. Hightower had blanched at Jane's outrageous comment and even he had the decency to have paled.

"How dare you! How dare you make such an evil accusation about my friend."

"You were never her friend, she doesn't have friends, she just has people she can use."

"You've gone too far this time Jane…"

"Why, do you honestly believe it is only fathers who rape their daughters, you shouldn't be behind that desk if you think that."

"Jane…Jane, lets leave, cool down, I'll make you some tea." Lisbon grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket. Knowing this argument was going to finish with one or both of them loosing their jobs if she did not part them now. Jane pulled his arm free and glared brief at her. His face was white and taunt with rage, his lips pale. She had never seen him so angry. Not even on the Red John case, never.

"Jane…please." Lisbon almost begged.

"Why Lisbon, is that what you think, only men do the evil in this world, women incapable of such things."

"Of course not Jane, but Elizabeth Bell?"

"Psychopaths come in all guises."

"You're not right in the head Jane, Elizabeth dotes on Clarence." Hightower hissed, feeling she was finally winning the argument.

"How would you know? you haven't actually seen her in years, she could have grown horns and a tail by now and you wouldn't know, you were so brainwashed by her she just has to click her fingers and you still go running."

"JANE." Hightower was shouting now, Lisbon hoped she did not have her gun anywhere handed.

"Please Jane, for me." Lisbon was pleading; she would fall to her knees and beg if that's what it would take.

"Oh shit…" Jane groaned, and clutched at his chest, bent forward.

"Jane." Hightower's tone changed instantly as she moved around the desk, Lisbon jumped forward but Jane collapsed onto the floor his face white, his lips turning blue as his heart stopped beating.

Madeline Hightower paused at the bottom of the path that led up to the yellow house. It was five days since she'd put the phone down on an extremely angry Elizabeth Bell and she had to handle this face-to-face interview extremely carefully. Smoothing the material on her black skirt, she headed for the door that opened as soon as she rung the bell.

"Is there news?" Terrance Bell asked without any polite greeting, Elizabeth stood closely beside, her face stricken.

"Yes. May I come in?" Hightower was shown into the same bright, chintz-filled living room that had greeted Lisbon and Jane. All three sat, perched on the edge of their seats.

"I thought you would have been in contact before now Agent Hightower." Terrance Bell chastised.

"Yes I'm sorry, unfortunately one of my agents died unexpectedly and it has rather thrown everyone into disarray."

"Died? Was he shot?" Elizabeth asked quickly.

"No, heart attack."

"Who?"

"Patrick Jane, our consultant, I believe you met him." Terrance Bell sat back into the depth of his armchair in shock.

"He wasn't that old was he?"

"No," Hightower sniffed and turned her face away, trying to compose herself. "It was a complete shock; obviously the team he worked with are on compassionate leave."

"But Clarence…" Elizabeth started.

"Another team has been looking for Clarence." Hightower cleared her voice and shuffled nervously in her seat. "There's no way of softening this, we found a body, and it fit's the description of Clarence…" Elizabeth dissolved into tears, collapsing into her husband's arms.

Terrance began to automatically comfort her but his eyes were turned to Hightower.

"Are you sure it's him?"

"We need a formal identification." He nodded once, steeling himself.

"I'll do it." He agreed, Elizabeth pulled herself up.

"We both go; I want to see my baby."

"He's in the morgue in Sacramento, I'll drive you."

The journey was made is almost silence, Terrance Bell had tried to glean information out of Hightower concerning the discovery of the body that was thought to be Clarence, but he found the woman tight-lipped and un-communicated. He fell into silence spending the rest of the journey comforting a white faced Elizabeth who seemed to have descended into shock.

At the morgue, Hightower hustled them through corridors until they stood in a cold white-tiled room where lines of covered corpses lay on stainless trolleys.

"Full moon, been a rash of deaths, they've run out of space in the chillers." Hightower stated as she guided them passed the still mounds. A flurry of noise filled the room as two unnaturally talkative men burst into the room, loudly discussing the previous night's baseball game. Then both burst into laughter at some comment one had made. The mortuary assistant came out of the shadows scolding them.

"Gentlemen please remember where you are, we have family here." He nodded towards Hightower and the Bells.

"Sorry Frank," The chastised man sounded genuinely sorry.

"We've come for Patrick Jane." The other commented as he consulted a clipboard he was holding. "Is he ready?"

Hightower stiffened at the name mentioned and Terrance Bell was aware of it.

"I just have to help Agent Hightower, can you wait."

"No…no…" Madeline answered quickly. "Let them take Jane now I…" she could not finish the sentence turning her face away and seeming to sniff back tears. Frank, the assistance nodded and quickly checked the toe tags of the bodies lined up in the overflowing room. Finding the corpse he needed he unzipped the body-bag revealing a brief glimpse of golden curls before replacing the cover.

"This one." He muttered and the trolley was manoeuvred out of its position, paperwork completed, the two happy baseball fans left, wheeling the trolley away from the morgue. Frank moved towards one of the large mortuary drawers and waited until his three visitors stood opposite him.

"Are you sure you want to do this." His question was directed at Elizabeth. "He was pulled from the river."

"I need to see my baby." Elizabeth steeled herself, ready for what was to come.

The drawer was pulled silently out on well-oiled bearings and the white cover pulled back to expose the face of the deceased. Elizabeth gasped at the decomposed state of the body then the horror on her face fell away as she bent into the drawer, looking, for a brief moment as if she was going to kiss the corpse.

"It's not him; this thing does not even look remotely like my baby." She turned swiftly on her heels and slapped Hightower hard around the face. "How could you let me think my baby was dead and bring me here to look at this bloated horror?" Shocked by the sudden violence, neither Hightower or Terrance Bell moved as Elizabeth stormed out of the morgue, pushing aside any of the covered trolleys that happen to block her way.

It was almost midnight by the time Madeline Hightower parked the SUV in front of the yellow-towered house. Elizabeth Bell had the door of the car open and was out even before the engine was switched off. She disappeared into the house without a backward glance at her one-time bridesmaid, it was left to her husband to apologise for his wife's rudeness and thank the agent for her help.

"I'm sorry the return journey was so long." Hightower apologised, Terrance waived the comment away. "It is hardly your fault the car had problems, and it was nice of you to buy us supper, even though Elizabeth was too upset to eat any." Terrance replied.

"I'll be in touch as soon as there is any news."

"Thank you agent Hightower." And Terrance followed his still angry wife into the house.

Elizabeth Bell blamed her husband. It was his fault that Clarence had gone missing; obviously someone was holding him against his will, waiting for the right time to demand money for his release. If Terrance had been more of a man, he would have seen the possibility of this happening and employed bodyguards to keep them all safe. Now, he had forced her to look at the rotting corpse of some homeless loser, thinking it was her darling boy. How could he. She would make him pay once Clarence was home.

Elizabeth Bell lay in the small bed adjacent to her son's room plotting her revenge against the kind and loving husband she now hated. Sleep was finally beginning to overtake her senses when she was aware of a slight noise coming from her son's room.

"Clarence." She called as she sat up in bed, wide-awake. "Clarence." Her voice louder as she hurried from the bed, not stopping to put on a robe or slippers, she ran barefoot into the next-door room, hoping, expecting.

Bright moonlight flooded the room, a pale figure wearing a light grey suit sat in the window seat looking forlornly out into the night.

"Clarence." Elizabeth called her son's name but stopped just inside the door, suddenly unsure. The white face of the seated figure turned slowly towards her, the full moon bathed the room in a pale light only strong enough to show the outline of the curled hair but not the colour.

"Mr. Jane?" Elizabeth was even more unsure.

"Elizabeth, we meet again."

"I was told you were dead?"

"There is unfinished business in this world."

"So you are dead."

"Dead is such a final word, you and I both know that death is not the end, it's just the cross-roads to another place." The ghost of Patrick Jane looked back out of the window.

"Why are you here?" Elizabeth had edged slightly closer, she shivered at the coldness of the room and hugged herself for warmth.

"Your father is very disappointed with you."

"My father?"

"Yes, you have caused the suicide of his grandson, and now his family line will come to an end."

"No…no…no…" Elizabeth fell to her knees, hugging herself closely.

"He finds it very difficult to understand how you could treat you own son so badly."

"No, he's wrong, I loved my son; I loved him the way I was loved." Elizabeth began weeping into her hands, so missed the looked of concerned that flitted across the ghost's white face.

"JT was his friend, the sister he never had, you took her away from him and he couldn't live with the grief." Elizabeth raised her head out of her hands and stared at the ghost.

"I had to, she found out about Clarence and me, she didn't understand how much a mother can love her son, she was going to tell her father, tell the police, I had to stop her."

"With twenty year old heart medication."

"I had no choice; I had to protect my son."

"And Clarence's father…why did he get a glass of your special lemonade?"

"He was a fool, he had no ambition for our wonderful son, saw no reason to even try and save enough money to send him to college. I had to find a father for Clarence who would help him achieve the success that he was entitled to."

"So you mowed down Terrance's first wife as she was out jogging, contrived to meet the grieving widower by the graves and became his second wife. Then just because I wasn't taken by your charms, you added me to your list of victims."

"I…"Elizabeth stopped talking and took a long hard look at her ghostly visitor. Her face changed from grieving mother to cornered wild animal, she sprung up and threw herself across the room at the grey clad figure.

"Lisbon!" Jane shouted as he managed to twist quickly out of her way and watched horrified as Elizabeth Bell fell through the hundred-year-old glass and out into the night.

Teresa Lisbon made her way quickly out of the closet to stand beside her consultant as they both stared down onto the path below and the broken body that was once Elizabeth Bell, wife, mother, serial killer.

"Did she kill Clarence as well?" Lisbon asked, not taking her eyes off the corpse.

"No, he's fine, old Clara across the way is hiding him."

"And you've known this how long?"

"Since I spoke to her."

"And once again, you couldn't let me and the team in on this piece of information. Patrick Jane has too keep it all to himself."

"I'm sorry Lisbon but I was a bit preoccupied at the time trying not to die." Teresa Lisbon's face softened as she looked across at her still very much alive consultant.

"You've over-done the white make-up."

"What white make-up?" Teresa placed a finger on Jane's cheek and gently rubbed it down, feeling the light stubble of his new beard growth. She held her finger up for him to see.

"This make-up." She stated and then turning her finger around, called loudly for Cho, as she realised her skin was clean.

Patrick Jane was in the place he least liked in the whole world - a hospital bed. He had thought he had finished with the services of the medical profession for the time being but no, dear Teresa had other ideas when she realised the ghostlike paleness of his skin was real and not stage make-up. She had threatened him with violence and he, too tired to argue, had agreed to return to the hospital to continue recovering from the heart attack brought on by a mouthful of granny's special lemonade laced with a lethal dose of out-of-date heart medication.

Hightower had saved him.

When he had collapsed and stopped breathing, she had started CPR and rallied Teresa out of her sudden shock to call the paramedics and help restarted his heart.

It seemed he was in possession of a very strong heart, it started beating again as soon as Hightower got into the CPR rhythm. It hadn't taken the doctors long to discovered there was a hell of a lot of heart medication in his system for someone who had no heart condition.

Then, from his hospital bed, he began to plan Elizabeth Bell's down-fall. Madeline Hightower getting the Bell's out of the house with a wild goose chase of identifying a dead son. Making sure a body with a golden curly wig was briefly seen by them both to convince Elizabeth she had in fact succeed in killed him. And whilst the Bell's were out of the house, Cho, Lisbon and Rigsby moved in. Wired Clarence's room with recording devices, hide Lisbon in the closet and made sure that Terrance Bell was unable to come to his wife's assistance.

That had not been easy; he had threatened all kinds of legal retribution until he had heard his wife confess to killing not only his daughter but also his first wife. Then it had taken all of Rigsby's strength to stop him storming into the room and killing her with his bare hands.

Elizabeth's sudden rage had saved him the job.

Jane was aware of a slight movement out of the corner of his eye and turning his head, realised Lisbon was quietly sitting beside the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Lisbon pulled a face.

"You still as white as chalk."

"I fade easily, it's my colouring, keep me out of the sun for a few days and I wan." Lisbon gave a very unladylike snort. "Has Clarence been told of his mother's death?" Jane changed tactics, away from his own health, something he never liked discussing.

"His step-father broke the news."

"How did he take it?"

"Not overly upset."

"Poor boy, but at least now it won't go to court and the whole world told of what he had to endure." Lisbon frowned.

"They'll be an inquest?"

"Why, Clarence has suffered enough so has Terrance, can't Elizabeth's death be put down to a tragic accident, sleepwalking and tripped. Why should Clarence go through life being know as the boy whose mother couldn't keep her hands off him."

"Why did he suddenly run away, what prompted it?"

"Elizabeth was choosing his college, something close to home, Clarence wanted to get as far away from her as possible, without making a big fuss, he saw college as his escape route and Elizabeth was blocking it."

"So you've spoke to Clarence?"

"No, Clara Jenkins, font of all knowledge and close friend to Clarence."

"Seems a strange friendship to me, seventeen year old boy and seventy odd year old woman." Lisbon commented. Jane gave a brief smile.

"Some of the best friendships are with opposites."

"If you knew Clarence was staying with Clara Jenkins, why didn't you say something and stop the investigation?"

"Because of all the convenient deaths around Elizabeth Bell, if Clarence had been found and returned home, we would have had no reason to continued investigating and by my reckoning Terrance was next on the list."

"How did you know Clarence was with Clara."

"Two-handled saw…" Jane saw the bewilderment on Lisbon's face, "…when I found my way into Clara's garden she was sawing wood with a two-handled saw, but no-one else was in the garden, Clara Jenkins is a tall, strong woman but even she can't use a two-handled saw alone, so who was helping her, and why hide from me? She knew so much about Clarence, his hopes and dreams, he must have been the other end of the saw."

"Did Clarence tell Miss Jenkins about his mother?"

"No…"

"Then how…?"

"Clarence's room was like a monks cell, no posters, no sign of anything a normal teenage boy, hormones rampant, would show an interest in. I'm sure being abused by a close relation would take any pleasure out of sex, something or someone had switched him off to the more physical joys of life, and who insisted on sleeping in the small bedroom close to his, when a large comfortable main bedroom was available? Even if Elizabeth no longer wish to sleep with her husband, Terrance was so besotted with her, he would have moved rooms."

"Modern teenagers use the internet for all their needs."

"I had thought of that, but went with my gut."

"And if your gut had been wrong?" Jane raised an eyebrow at the absurdity of such an idea.

"I wasn't wrong, I'm never wrong." Lisbon huffed and shifted in her seat.

"One of these days you will be, big time, and then we'll all be dragged down with you." Jane smiled a tired, half smile, and reached over, took her hand.

"But not this time Teresa."

"No, this time you came up smelling of roses, as usual." Patrick Jane closed his eyes and went back to sleep, his hand still clasping the small hand of Special Agent Teresa Lisbon, who gently laid her other hand on top of his, and smiled.

END


End file.
